Blackout
by ShadowWolf181
Summary: After Bulma awakened from a coma, she unfortunately discovered that West City had been abandoned. But it wasn't as desolate as she initially believed. Enigmatic creatures lurked within the blackness, patiently waiting and searching to invade anything that breathed. Now her only hope of surviving rested on the shoulders of a mysterious man named Vegeta.


I love a good DBZ fan fic as much as the next person. But after a while I'm tired of reading fan fics with the same themes or concepts over and over again. Don't get me wrong, they're awesome. But I wanted to write something new, something that did not involve the DBZ universe or high schools or a new Planet Vegeta.

I was searching through my files one day and I came across an original story I had partially written some years ago. Like most of my original stories I decided to turn it into a fan fic (I have to face the fact that I enjoy writing fan fics more than original stories). So what you're about to read is actually an original story turned fan fic with a few major adjustments. This is my first time trying to write a horror story, so I apologize in advance if it sucks.

The story will focus mostly on the relationship between Vegeta and Bulma, as well as the tragic situation they are enduring. But other characters like Goku and Krillin will come into play later on. To be honest, I haven't the slightest idea where this story is headed. But I have hope that with your support it will turn out as well as some of my other fics.

XXX

A young woman awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling as white as grimy snow. Rotating her head she could see a curtain that had not been washed evidently in weeks acting as a barrier between her bed and the bed on the other side. She sat up but with much difficulty; it seemed as if her body had not been mobile in days, the worrisome cracking of fallow bones verifying that theory. The woman analyzed her unacquainted surroundings. Hypothermic needles, surgical gloves and other medical necessities were dispersed throughout various areas of the room—a clear indication she's in a hospital. But why was she there? Is she a victim of an accident? Questions with no substantial answers. But… something else wasn't right. The environment… is stagnant. Deathly stagnant.

The woman tentatively swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and carefully detached a flexible translucent tube from her left wrist that once administered some type of medicine or unknown substance. Upon attempting to stand on her feet did the woman realize how weak and fragile her body had become. Both legs collapsed beneath her without mercy. The tile floor was freezing and filthy, but was otherwise unobstructed. An unoccupied wheelchair that sat against a wall caught her eye. After making certain the brakes were in a locked position, she took advantage and used it to assist in supporting her weight as she dragged a foot from under her—ending in a kneeing stance—and gradually regained enough vitality to finally stand. Wavering, she staggers towards the heavy door a shade of coffee and peeks out of the small glass window. There were no doctors or nurses hurrying to care for their patients, no receptionist at the receiving desk ready to sign others in, no people sitting in the waiting room while waiting impatiently for the treatments to their infirmities. If this place is truly a hospital… why the hell is it so silent?

Cautiously opening the door the woman leisurely wanders through the halls and eventually reaches a receiving area not far from the ER. She can't avoid wondering where the hell everyone has gone. It was like a frickin' ghost town. A hospital with no patients or medical staff can't actually be called a hospital, can it? Not only did the building's vacancy intrigue her, but the state in which it had been left in: Coffee cups still half full were set unaltered on tables; kids toys and other personal items lay forgotten in surely the same spots they were being used before; confidential medical files someone had once been reading at some point were now exposed to the public for snooping eyes.

Maybe she could find some information about herself. Fortunately, all the files still appeared to be intact. It required a few minutes, but after a cumbersome search she found a manila file with her name on the tab. She meticulously read the contents:

Patient Name: Bulma Briefs

Sex: Female

Age: Eighteen years of age

Blood type: AB negative

Diagnosis: Patient has been in a coma for three years since the age of fifteen. She suffered from a severe concussion due to a motorcycle accident. She retains brain activity and has awakened twice over the three years. But she continues to fall into a state of unconsciousness. Temporary amnesia is probable if or when she awakens again. However she is capable of breathing on her own, and all other vitals seem well.

Bulma returned the file. So… she had been in a motorcycle accident? And for three whole years she had been in a profound coma. Well, at least they were correct about the amnesia; it was hard to recall anything of that tragic event. Anyway, it was probably for the best that she failed to remember. Her mother and father must've been petrified upon receiving the awful news. Bulma had to return home so they could see for themselves that she was better now.

'Leave the past and live for the future!'

Her father's motto reverberated within her mind. It was something Dr. Briefs always said whenever his daughter lingered on her painful past. Merely a few simple words, but they were all she needed to concentrate on the essential things in life. And no matter the predicament Mrs. Briefs was always there to protect and support her daughter. Their absence hit Bulma suddenly like an incoming freight train. Christ… she missed them so much! She had to get home, no matter the cost!

As Bulma walked away from the receiving area something shifted in her peripheral vision. She shivered as a chill colder than death overwhelmed her without warning. There must have been a draft coming from somewhere. Frightened, she slowly faced the left where she noticed the shift and gasped in surprise. Their presence was indistinguishable within the gloominess of that section of the hall, but it was there all the same. Whoever it was they seemed to be at home in that darkness for they refused to advance any further. Bulma couldn't identify whether the enigmatic entity was male or female, but the manner in which it stood and its height led her to believe that it was definitely a man. But… there was something wrong about him. Something very weird… and eerie. Shadows that engulfed the man's body appeared to be _extending onto _him as if trying to _merge_ with him. Bulma shook her head. That's impossible. Shadows don't merge with people. They're not living creatures or parasites. Unless she missed out on a new scientific discovery, shadows are just areas where direct light cannot reach because of an obstruction from an object.

Bulma just stood there. Fear she had never experienced before cemented her quivering feet to the ground. What was this feeling? It's neither convivial nor malignant. What is it then? She felt chagrined.

"Ex… Excuse me… b-but are you a doctor?" Bulma stuttered, apprehensive and skeptical regarding this blackened individual. There came no response, not that she had been expecting one. Something already informed her that it wasn't going to be a prolific conversation. But there's no harm in trying to establish one.

"My name is Bulma Briefs," she continued. "I was in a coma for three years. Motorcycle accident… or so I read. Um… do you know what happened to all the staff and patients? Where did everybody go?"

The man said nothing. Bulma was starting to wonder whether this guy was mute or just a rude asshole. He shifted his weight slightly or so it seemed at first glance. It was tricky when attempting to perceive anything in that darkness.

"Answer me!" she commanded. Vexation overcame her. The man was inflexible. She might as well be trying to converse with a human suffering from deafness. An echo alarmed her, but it was just a cup that fell nearby. Bulma gazed at the spilt coffee that oozed out of its Styrofoam container like pus leaking from an open lesion. When she returned her attention to the man, ready to confront him with resolve this time, he had vanished. He made no audible sounds while departing, causing her to ponder whether it was just a hallucination. Never mind. She had more significant things to figure out like how to escape from the hospital.

Of course it was no enjoyable task. Other than a few battery powered lights nothing seemed to be functioning. The elevators were out of order and none of the telephones had a dial tone. And in a place that should've had a backup generator no less. Could it be that even the generator wasn't operational? Ah well, the emergency stairs would have to suffice for now.

Bulma proceeded down the stairs, each footstep resounding off the hollow structure's walls louder than what should've been. Usually, she would enjoy the tranquility the hospital provided. But this peace is more of a mystifying calm.

"Ahh!" she yelped as she slipped on something slick. Bulma rose and massaged her sore butt. What the hell did she slip on? Utilizing a flashlight she had picked up on a shelf while in the receiving area, Bulma lifted her hand in its path of light. Her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the carmine substance that dyed her flesh. Christ… was that… blood? No, it couldn't be. It must've been paint someone had unintentionally spilled earlier. Then again… the subtle aroma of decay wafted to her nostrils. Bulma recalled how much more pungent it was in specific areas inside the hospital.

Unable to endure the stifling darkness any longer, Bulma chose a door in the stairwell to walk through and stumbled onto the second level of a vast parking garage. Bulma was somewhat surprised to see so many vehicles abandoned without their owners. A beautiful blue Porsche ensnared her attention. The notion of "borrowing" it was terminated as quickly as it had been conjured up. Although a Porsche—or any vehicle for that matter—would get her home faster she couldn't live with becoming a car thief. Bulma growled in self-loathing. She just had to take a motorcycle that day. Her flying car would've prevented all of this hassle, but she had to be a _genius_ and leave it at home. Yeah, real _smart_.

Bulma finally reached the bottom of the garage and investigated the vicinity. She wasn't sure what she was searching for, if anything at all. Maybe a fragment of information or a shard of hope that she wasn't as alone as she perceived. The sky revealed breathtaking shades of red, orange, yellow and mild pink—colors of a sunset. Now that Bulma was out of the hospital she examined the structure that persevered in erecting itself conceitedly. Yet it still yearned for its erstwhile company, the very humans that provided significance to its existence. Deserted cars, pieces of glass and forsaken purses and briefcases were just some of the items that littered the streets Bulma navigated vigilantly. It's as if everyone had just decided to cease their activities and abandon everything. The hospital wasn't a ghost town. Rather it was the entire city that lacked any signs of life.

A piece of stained paper fluttered in the cool breeze, entangled between a silver Jeep's windshield wipers. Inspecting it further, Bulma recognized it as the front of a newspaper. She extricated the torn paper and read the front page: **West City Attacked by Extraterrestrial Creatures! **

What? Extraterrestrial creatures? They seriously meant that aliens were the cause of the city's turmoil? Just the concept of paranormal creatures invading the city—if not the whole world—seemed asinine and utterly outlandish. Like something out of a horror novel. Little did Bulma know she wasn't completely alone. Another chill forced her arms to swathe around her body in the hope of receiving warmth. The sea-foam green hospital gown she wore was easily penetrated in the unfavorable weather. Practical clothes were the least of her concerns because at that moment she felt the eyes of someone gazing at her intently. Turning around Bulma came face to face with a man... Well… at least he had the appearance of a man. But a menacing aura enshrouded him. Bulma's first instinct was to step away in self-preservation. He seemed to be a Caucasian male, but something about his features seemed unfitting.

"Uh… um…" She was speechless. No words came to mind, too stunned and absorbed by this stranger's intimidating air—a shame really since she had so many questions to ask him. The man opened what Bulma assumed to be his mouth as if to say something, but a rumble came out instead. His entire flesh was veiled in a type of black material that oozed onto the ground sluggishly. Eyes the shade of freshly spattered blood were the only conspicuous feature other than the mystifying black slime, and they currently gazed at her with such power that she felt as if they were attempting to pierce into her soul. This man… no, this _monster_… stood askew as a shadow of a smile towed across his black countenance. So unnaturally creepy was that smile, reaching from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.

A wave of fear washed over Bulma as the black slime precipitously shot out from the man's body quicker than one could blink. It extended its flexible form and reached for her, coiling around her right wrist in a crushing grip. Bulma screamed in pain and shock, taken aback by this unforeseen behavior. She tried to unshackle herself, thrashing her arm violently in every direction as the substance progressed along the length of her limb, but it was all in vain. Its clutch was like a vise that made retreat unfeasible. Under the fear lurked ire. Did she really awaken after three years just so she could be killed by this… thing? Was this all fate had in store for her?

Black fragments of the creature exploded everywhere, launching Bulma backwards from the impact. She witnessed in amazement as the monster wailed an earsplitting shriek that resulted in untouched glass to instantaneously shatter into a thousand shards. A gunshot had resonated throughout the atmosphere. Flashes of cobalt electricity had inundated the monster entirely while electrocuting it without mercy, the small lightshow nearly blinding her. Bulma could feel the extreme heat emanating from the burning corpse. She grunted as a hand firmly clutched her upper arm and lifted her from the floor. She caught a glimpse of a young man with carbonado hair that spiked at an upwards angle. Somewhat thick eyebrows rested above eyes a lighter shade than his hair. He concentrated on the dying creature that still howled in torment in spite of detonating into a thousand pieces, an intimidating frown yanking at the corners of his mouth that yearned to be kissed. Bulma barely noticed the handgun between his glove-covered fingers or the strange sword strapped to his back.

Meanwhile the sun had nearly finished its descent, the shadows within the environment growing ever larger. Along with the sun's vanishing act came a chilliness Bulma had never felt before, not even in the winter season. Voices whispering incoherent words from intangible sources called to her, and she suddenly had an irrational desire to coalesce with the darkness. The man snatched Bulma's hand and they ran for dear life. However the voices wouldn't cease, their unremitting whispering giving her a headache as they fell and rose in pitch. Bulma wasn't sure why they were running or what they were fleeing from—that is until she took note of the black entities that ambushed them from every side. They mimicked the outline of humans, but they were far from humans, each one perfectly camouflaged into the night. Crimson eyes are the only things that notified them of their location.

Another shot rang through the air and electricity once again illuminated the creatures that assaulted their fleeing victims. Bulma looks behind her and her breath hitches in fear. The oncoming swarm was catching up faster than their legs could carry them. She screamed as one of them unexpectedly leapt through the air, ready to strike as gravity reclaimed it. As the man pivoted he aimed his gun at the monster, prepared to blow its brains out if it had any. But as he pulled the trigger the only sound that came was the empty clicking of a weapon with no ammo. He cussed and holstered the now ineffective gun, extracting his sword which electrified any matter it came into contact with. Unfortunately for the creature it learned of this with its death.

Veering onto another road that eventually led to an abandoned shopping mall, the man gestures for Bulma to crawl underneath a bent metal gate that once prevented thieves and other delinquents from entering. She hesitated, not certain whether it was any safer in there than it was out here. But the man had been zealously fighting off those monsters and she couldn't keep him waiting any longer. Finally crawling under the gate she yelled, "Come on, hurry up!"

The man grunted in pain as one of the monster's hits connected with the left side of his torso. It released an agonized screech as it seemingly combusted after a surge of electricity paralyzed it. Replacing his sword to its sheath, he evaded another attack and slid beneath the gate, grasping Bulma's hand as he did so. The shadows ferociously pursued them, but stopped abruptly once the man and Bulma had reached a well-lit part of the mall. Their crimson eyes gradually faded back into darkness. They were safe… for now.


End file.
